Page 82 of Hiding from Hope

The last few weeks have gone past in a blur, but they have been by far the best few weeks of my life. I knew loving Casey was going to be the best and easiest thing I had ever done. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, listening to the gasps she makes when she reads, the look of concentration when she bakes, and the way her brows furrow slightly as she sleeps, those perfect pink lips pouted. How I know she’s had a hard day from the way she walks through the front door and falls into my arms without greeting. When she cries in the shower like I’m not going to climb in there and hold her. How she can sense my frustration, anger and insecurity, and can ease it through touch, a small scratch at the back of my neck, baking something sweet, or reading me something from my classics collection. Casey and I feel like a puzzle that has had a missing piece, and it’s finally slid into place. I realized that whatever I had felt for Jenny pales in comparison to the way I feel for Casey. Love doesn’t even quite fit it. That word feels too small.

“You usually like my caveman skills,” I retort, forgetting about the mixture in the bowl and turning to lift Casey onto the counter, baking mess be damned. She squeals at the unexpected movement, but promptly wraps her legs around my waist from where she sits on the counter and giggles as I pull her top over her head, unclasping her bra, and descending my mouth on her perfectly perky tits.

“I fucking love these.” I bite her nipple and she gasps, arching up into me.

“Jess.”

I groan, rapidly turning into the caveman she accused me of being at the sound of her moan mixed with her light giggles and gasps for air.

“The… flour, it’s, oh god…everywhere,” she breathes as my hands roam her back, torso, finding their way to her hair, her neck, and I take her lips in a demanding kiss.

“Jessie,” she whispers.

“Sunshine,” I whisper back, and I can feel her smile into our kiss, her tongue dancing with mine in a loving caress. Her breath deepens, her hips searching as she grips my hair.

“I wan—”

The sound of Casey’s phone ringing interrupts us, and I nearly growl at the fucking thing. I was very much interested in where this was headed. Casey pulls back, panting and chuckling.

“It’s Rosie, and she is anti phone calls. I really should take it,” she breathes and bites her lip because she knows I’m about ready to bust a nut right fucking now. I let go of a breath and my forehead hits her collarbone as she reaches over and grabs her phone.

Not letting her go from where she is trapped on the counter, I continue to pepper light kisses across her delicate skin, leaving little licks and bites, my left hand combing through the soft curls of her auburn hair, the other roaming the expanse of her bare chest and stomach.

I fucking love this woman. Every. Single. Inch.

“Hey, Rosie. What… uh, what are you—want?” Casey tries to ask between breaths, distracted by my tour of her body.

“Huh? They… wait, what?” She sits up straighter and manages to shove a hand at my chest to push me back. I oblige reluctantly and release a light chuckle at the exasperated look she gives me, trying to get me to stop so she can focus, but then her face drops in shock. I drop the pursuit of my desire, and instead move toward her in concern, handing her back her top and bra as she continues to listen to Rosie.

“Okay. Yep, I’m on my way.” She hangs up and rushes around the apartment the moment she jumps from the counter. As she storms past me again, I have to grab her elbow, pulling her back into the safety of my arms. Feeling her heart race, I frame her face with my hands so I have a moment to drown in those blue eyes.

“What is it, Ace?”

“Oh, um… my parents. They turned up at our apartment.” She pulls a tight smile, eyes searching mine.

“Oh.” Why am I nervous-sweating right now?

“Yeah. Um… so I should probably go.” She shrugs, biting her lip, which is kind of pouted from where my hands grip her face. It’s super adorable, so I can’t help myself but give her a quick kiss, finally letting her go and grabbing my coat.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you, obviously.”

“Why?”

“Well, I haven’t seen Bev in over a decade. Maybe she brought treats?” I flick her a wink, trying to swallow my nervous energy, because Casey is about to be nervous enough for the both of us. I quickly move to put the cold ingredients we have out back in the fridge. Remembering those containers of delicious pastries Casey’s mom used to give her any time she came over to see Addison. Poor girls never had enough because I had polished them off every time. I definitely knew where Case got her cooking and baking skills from.

“Oh, you don’t have to come. Really, you should stay.” I tilt my head, assessing her from where she fusses with her scarf and boots.

“Ace, you wouldn’t be avoiding introducing me to your parents as your boyfriend, would you?” I’m not offended, it’s actually slightly amusing seeing her anxious about us, but my heart does beat a little faster when I see her go rigid at the mention of the b-word and even more so when she avoids making eye contact.

“Casey.” The demand in my voice a little deeper this time. I don’t want to invade her personal space if she is freaking out, but I need her to focus on me so that we can work this out together. Like we always do.

“Uhh, we hadn’t said anything about labels.” Her voice is nervous, the insecurity in her voice refreshing, and it gets me to take a step forward. When I’m just before her, our toes nearly touching, her chin tipped back and those pretty eyes sparkling up at me, I let an easy smile show. I reach a hand forward to tangle a finger with her thumb and twist my ring that sits there, in an effort to comfort her. I’ve seen her fidget with it when she is anxious, and every time, the tips of her lips curl as they do now, and she takes a big breath.

“Are you okay with labels?” I ask gently, and she shrugs slightly, biting her cheek nervously.

I search her face and try to read her thoughts, the mind that tries to figure out what everyone wants and needs and very rarely makes her own known. I’ve gotten especially good at reading her, so when I see the small pull of her eyebrows, that little crease in her chin, I can see everything she is trying to hide from me.

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